


The Pirate's Prisoner and Other Fantasies

by thedishandthespoon



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blushing Steve Rogers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Coming In Pants, I love that that's a tag there is so much blushing here, M/M, Masturbation, Top Bucky Barnes, Trashy Romance Novels, be warned: f/m sex referenced in said trashy romance novel, he's into him anyways, steve doesn't know the winter soldier is bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedishandthespoon/pseuds/thedishandthespoon
Summary: Everyone thinks that Captain America is a naive, blushing virgin. And they might be right. The Soldier just wants to know what medical condition is causing Steve’s face to be perpetually red.Or: Captain America and the Winter Soldier both have a very horny rollercoaster of a day.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 58
Kudos: 389





	The Pirate's Prisoner and Other Fantasies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Whendoestheshipsail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whendoestheshipsail/gifts).



> Thank you so, so much to whendoestheshipsail. You didn't ask for this gift, but I am thrusting it upon you anyways. Not only for bringing up corruption kink, which I grabbed and ran away with like a thief in the night (her take is much better please go read it), but also for being the entire reason that I am writing at all <3

Fed up with playing candy crush during stakeouts, Steve had asked Nat for a book to stave off boredom. This had not been the literary experience that Steve had envisaged. 

_—Sophia keens loudly as his thick manhood enters her slowly, her head thrown back in pleasure. Her hands claw desperately at his back. The pirate grasps her hips tightly and begins to thrust—_

Steve tosses the book to the passenger seat as a violent blush covers his cheeks. He looks at it with wide eyes. He is a mouse staring into the eyes of a hungry fox.

And Natasha is a goddamned menace.

He knew what the book would be as soon as he saw the cover, the regency era woman swooning into the arms of a shirtless, broad-shouldered man. _The Pirate's Prisoner._ He’s not a complete idiot. He _knows_ that Nat was playing a prank. He was just going to show her up and read the whole damn thing and give a smug review with a perfectly straight face afterwards. And it was going well! The book is actually quite good, and it has been nice to read about a time that came far before even him. And he likes the characters! As a random example, he quite likes the roguishly handsome pirate who kidnaps Sophia in the second chapter. In the third chapter, it is revealed that he was actually saving her life all along! But that he would need to keep her prisoner until they can reach safe harbor. In the fourth chapter, she catches him tending to a wound on his hip, and he’s naked, and she admires the way his thick— 

Steve didn’t think his face could get any hotter, but he is quickly proven wrong. It’s just that, well he _does_ know about sex, goddamnit. He’s not some blushing, naive virgin. His eyes move involuntarily towards the book, and then shoot back ahead once he catches another glimpse of Pirate Captain Davis and his gleaming pectorals. Okay, well he’s Irish, of course he’s gonna blush. And so what if he’s a virgin! He’s not naive, at least, that’s for sure. He was in the war, for chrissakes. His men had fouler mouths during a casual meal than a whole ship of sailors cursing their way through a raging November storm. 

An example: Dernier and Jones used to spend a lot of their free time in the forest near camp, or sometimes in one of their tents, probably where they didn’t realize that Steve’s super hearing could still catch snippets. They would just curse and grunt and shout away, say the dirtiest things imaginable to one another. Steve doesn’t think there’s anything he hasn’t heard from that foul mouthed pair.

So he’s no stranger to obscene words. But, the thing is, those were _just_ words. They told him as much about sex as, say, when he used to see Bucky naked in the showers. Just because it sort of had to do with sex, what with him having no clothes on and his lean muscles slick with water and his shapely cock heavy between his legs, well what was that going to tell Steve about having sex with a woman? Nothing, that’s what. So he can admit that he might be a bit… inexperienced. Fuzzy on the details. But he’s not _naive_ or _innocent_. When he deigns to think about the particulars, just laying on a woman and you know, doing all the normal things, well it’s just not too interesting, is it? Just something to think about a bit to get off and then let lie. Really, he doesn’t think he’s missing too much. There had been that one time when Pegs had a bit too much to drink and had gotten a bit frisky—she’d pressed him against her desk and just kissed him real hard, overpowered him a bit. He’d been a bit affected then, but they’d gotten interrupted right away. So yes, maybe that _had_ been something to ponder a bit, but they never had time for more than that. And really, he wasn’t too torn up about it. Because, again, the laying and thrusting and all those normal things. Not too interesting. 

This all to say that yes _,_ _fine_ , maybe he is a virgin. But he is not going to be embarrassed by any little mention of sex, Natasha! Just because he hasn’t done things doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know about them.

Or, well, that’s what he would have said before. Until now. Until the Pirate Captain Davis came along with his roguish grin, his smoldering gaze, his tying Sophia up and forcing her into his bunk but not having his way with her even though she begins to try and seduce him...

Steve has to pull his uniform away from his neck to get some air on his skin. The car is really beginning to get quite hot.

As it turns out, Pirate Captain Davis has shown Steve a thing or two that he hadn’t quite considered. About sex. Because apparently, there’s a bit more that can be done than the laying and the thrusting. Steve finds that he is quite intrigued by the idea of slamming a woman like Sophia into the wall hard enough that she’s sure she’ll have some bruises that will feel wonderful the next day, until she’s almost desperate with wanting this large, handsome man that she should hate, wanting to feel the press of his hard body against his own, the mouthwatering bulge in his pants as it grinds against Steve’s hip, but oh he’s trapped and helpless and has no choice but to eventually grind back, and— 

Oh dear. The imagery has gotten all turned around in his head and he’s started to imagine himself as Sophia.

Luckily, before Steve is forced to face his tangled up character placement (a mistake that could easily happen to anyone), a loud crash comes over the audio surveillance equipment hooked into his headphones. He sits up at attention, the book instantly forgotten, and picks up the binoculars at his side. The entrance is still calm with no signs of forced entry, but he can hear heavy grunts coming through the headphones, followed by the unmistakable thump of three separate bodies hitting the floor.

Steve opens his channel and yells over the comms. “We have action! Main entrance 3, I’m going in. Stand by.” He grabs his shield, a gun from the backseat, and thrusts the door open. Time to fight.

+++

It was even less of a fight than usual, today.

Steve knows the Winter Soldier always takes care of much of the fight before Steve arrives. The one time Steve had tried to enter the target base without being summoned first, the Winter Soldier had shot him with a tranquilizer strong enough to knock him out and had taken care of it alone. Sam and Nat have forced him to bring backup ever since. Steve understands now, though. The Winter Soldier goes in first to remove any intelligence available on himself before letting Steve join him. There are always noticeable gaps in the intel they recover. Steve doesn’t like that the man does so much fighting without backup, but he can respect his need for privacy. 

Today, he seems to have done a lot more than just remove traces of himself. By the time Steve arrived, there were barely any Hydra operatives conscious and Steve was able to handle the few that were in a matter of minutes.

As always, he then turns to try and speak to the Winter Soldier, expecting him to have already vanished without a trace, as always. Instead, he finds him staring intently at Steve. And Steve just…. freezes. Steve knows he could finally try to speak to him, to convince him to trust Steve for more than just backup, but instead Steve is just _standing_ there, paralyzed, and the only thought he can come up with is that the Winter Soldier sure looks a lot like a certain pirate. That he has the same long hair to grab onto, and those intense, gray eyes. Honestly, he has far _more_ muscles bulging under his body armor, and all those weapons sure would be pretty damn effective in a kidnapping.

Suddenly, Steve is hard in his tac pants. When he realizes, he gasps. _What is wrong with him_. 

The gasp barely makes a sound, but it is still enough to startle the Winter Soldier into action. He jumps up, hoists himself into the venting system, and is gone. Steve watches him go. Then he throws his shield and curses loudly.

+++

Steve sits across from Nat at the Stark Tower cafe, glowering at anyone who dares look his way and cursing his entire existence.

“Steven, stop trying to incinerate the kind baristas with your eyes.” Nat is sitting on a plush floral couch, playing some phone game that involves navigating a small, magical cat through a series of treacherous obstacle courses. 

Steve turns his glower to focus on her. She looks up, deeply unimpressed, then continues her game. His glower weakens. “How are you not frustrated? For the first time, he was around long enough for me to say something, and I froze! _”_ A dent appears in the reusable metal mug he is holding. He yanks his hand away, switches to picking at a paper napkin, and finishes morosely. “He didn’t even leave any fighting for me today. Why’s he sending the coordinates if he’s gonna just do it all on his own?”

Nat lets out a large, exasperated sigh and sets her phone down. “Steve. A high traffic Hydra base was shut down, twenty-three Hydra operatives have been apprehended, and we picked up valuable intel about the location of six new Hydra hideouts. Nothing about that says failed op. The only reason any of us even go is to make sure you don’t get your dumb ass killed chasing the Winter Soldier around the entire greater New York area. He clearly has it under control; this is the easiest clean up we’ve ever done.”

Steve returns to a deep glower but charitably decides to ignore the insult to his person. “You know what I mean, Nat. He’s all alone out there. I just want to talk to him.” He is definitely not whining, but he’s also not exactly _not_ whining. He takes a moment to calm himself. Turns up the Liberty, Justice, and Freedom for All in his voice. “Look, all I’m saying is that brainwashed or not, there is an unknown vigilante currently operating outside the law. Surely there’s still a danger.” He sends a silent apology to the Winter Soldier for the lows he has gone to and definitely does not conjure up images of the man as a blanket burrito. 

Nat raises an unimpressed eyebrow and takes a sip of her drink. “Hours of listening to you argue to Fury and God and everyone that he’s on our side, that the brainwashing intel is definitely solid, and that you can see the goodness in his sad eyes are not helping you out in this lie.” Steve frowns. Nat sighs again. “We have to let it play out, Steve. You know this. I agree with you now, he is doing good work, but he’ll come to us when he’s ready or he won’t. We can’t force anything.”

The paper napkin sits in tiny pieces beneath his fingers. “Just, he’s out there, taking on Hydra, living with everything he’s gone through, and all alone! What if they go after him? He has no backup out there! Where does he live? Does he have food?” His voice is becoming shrill. 

Nat raises her eyes to the ceiling. “Steve, stop insulting the man, he can take care of himself.” She picks her phone up and begins playing the game again. “Lord knows why he drags you to his battles, but we all know he could go completely dark if he wanted to. Until then, don’t beat a dead gift horse.”

Steve glares at the side of her head. “That is definitely not the right phrase.” He tries to ignore the stab of pain he feels at the thought of the Winter Soldier going dark.

She grins at her phone and shrugs. “I’m Russian.”

With that, the conversation is over. Steve suspects that he has fallen into a trap, fights the sudden urge to pout, and mostly succeeds. He remembers his book, left on the seat of the stakeout car, and wonders what happened to it. Then he remembers the scene he ended at and his distracting thoughts about the Winter Soldier. He feels his face heat. Damnit. 

+++

After finishing his cinnamon mocha cappuccino, Steve decides to try Sam. Nat is an amazing friend, but there was that whole thing where the Winter Soldier shot her once. He can’t expect her to share his perfectly reasonable concerns. But Sam will; the Winter Soldier is practically a vet. Of a sort. Steve accosts him at the gym after his morning flying maneuvers session.

“Aw c’mon man, please tell me that you are not still on this.” 

Steve frowns. His eyes furrow. _Still_ on this? “Still on this?” he asks.

Sam gives him an incredulous look. “Is this or is this not a continuation of your thirty minute rant about how it has been chilly outside and the deadliest known assassin of the last century probably doesn’t have anyone to make him soup?” 

Oh, right. That. Steve blushes, but pushes ahead. “It was 43 degrees, Sam! That’s soup and blanket weather.” Bucky used to practically force feed him soup once it regularly started going under 50 degrees. He’d always fought it hard, but he’d give his left foot for just one spoonful of Bucky’s chicken broth and cabbage soup right about now. When it’d gotten really frigid, they’d eat it huddled on Steve’s mattress under a few blankets, Steve tucked against Bucky’s warm side. He swallows down an anguished sob and then clears his throat before continuing. “All I’m saying is that I owe this guy a debt and he clearly could use some help.”

Sam’s gaze softens. “Okay look, what you’re saying isn’t completely crazy, I just can’t help but feel that you’re getting a bit obsessive.” Steve bristles, ready to defend himself, but Sam continues on. “We are trying to help him, Steve. We can’t ambush the man.” Sam wipes at his brow, takes a gulp of water, and begins walking towards the locker room. Steve follows. “He’s not hurting civilians, he’s helping us round up an outrageous number of Hydra operatives, and he’s handling himself fine. We’re unbelievably lucky that he’s keeping us updated on his movements. You gotta be patient, man.”

Steve sighs. He should have known that Sam would be completely unreasonable.

Here’s the thing. When Steve realized that SHIELD was actually Hydra and that his entire existence since being defrosted had, in fact, been one massive lie, he had hit somewhat of a rock bottom. He’d rallied and gotten the job done (i.e. burned those motherfuckers to the ground), but he had also been constantly aware of a menacing despair lurking just beyond his consciousness, waiting for the precise moment that the entire world was no longer under threat so it could crush him into a million tiny, depressed pieces. So when the three chips were in place on the helicarriers and he was faced with the large, scary Hydra assassin that had been sent to kill him, he had sort of just—given up. Now that he is in a far more stable place (and _yes,_ Sam, he does know that he has a remaining hangup or two and may still need some sort of therapy) he is not proud of it, but at the time, he had almost been grateful to see the threat. It wouldn’t have been a bad mission to go out on. 

Except then the large, scary Hydra assassin hadn’t killed him. He only would have needed one or two more hits with his stunning metal arm, but instead, he had stopped. Fist raised, he’d stared at Steve with those gorgeous, slate blue eyes, still as a statue. Steve’s vision had been a bit spotty at that point, but he had stared up at the figure looming over him and been convinced that the Winter Soldier was an avenging angel. That he’d been sent to take back a man who had tried to cheat death. The angel even had Bucky’s eyes, which seemed about right.

But then the ground had fallen away. And they had dropped. And the Winter Soldier had dragged him to land and saved his sorry life.

So Steve really doesn’t think he’s out of hand for feeling a bit protective of the man. And if he talks about him slightly more than necessary, or is giddy every time he receives a text that means the man specifically wants Steve’s company on a mission, or even if he has a couple dreams where The Winter Soldier covers him with his wide, leather-clad body and holds him so tightly that he can’t breathe, that it hurts a bit, and if he wakes up from those dreams to wet sheets, well getting a text is always nice, dreams are meaningless, and the serum makes him a hair trigger at all times.

Despite these logical explanations, his traitorous face goes red as he thinks about the man and the dreams. Damn his Irish complexion.

Sam gives him a strange look. Takes in the moony eyes and the bright blush.

“Aw, hell no.” Steve doesn’t know what’s happening, but his blush deepens. “Only you, Steve, you complete _moron_.” Sam is shaking his head. Steve has found himself in the odd position of needing to defend his honor from an unknown attack.

“What?” What? “Sam, what? I’m really not being that unreasonable here, you said it yourself. I just think the Winter Soldier could use some of our help.” His face cools as he listens to himself speak. He wants to nod at his own words. Yes, he remembers, he is the reasonable one here. “Maybe we could bring him a blanket or two at the next base. A thermos with soup, perhaps. Some clothes? Do you think he wears that uniform all the time? It does look great, but it can’t be very comfortable.” His voice has gone contemplative. Sam looks disgusted.

“Nope. Steve, I love you, but nope. I cannot watch this train wreck.” He reaches back and grabs something from his locker, handing it to Steve as he ushers him towards the door of the locker room. It’s the book. Steve’s blush returns in full force. “I found your sex book for you, please go and enjoy it somewhere else, goodbye!” Then he pushes a spluttering Steve out the door and slams it shut. 

Damnit.

+++

Sam was making no sense during that conversation, but Steve does want to keep reading. He considered going somewhere in the tower, but it is a beautiful day and he refuses to feel shamed into reading in private simply because his book is a bit risqué. So he grabs his jacket and Disguise Sunglasses, steals a blanket from the common room, and heads to Central Park. 

It’s a lovely fall day, but still cool, so he is quickly able to find a nice, secluded spot behind a tree near The Mall. After laying out his blanket, he leans back against the trunk, bends his legs, and begins to read. If he chooses to hide the book behind his thighs, well, he’s not going to be completely shameless.

Except then he begins to read and realizes that shameless is exactly what he is. Why had he thought reading this in public would be a good idea? A familiar heat begins to cover his face. He reads on. 

The Pirate Captain Davis is doing a commendable job as a lover, if Sophia’s reaction is anything to go by. And Steve does not blame her for her enthusiasm. Steve is only reading about the pirate picking her up and pushing her against the wall, a gag still in her mouth to muffle her cries of ecstasy and surprise as he re-enters her with one deep thrust, and Steve is not unaffected. His face is rivaling a ripe August tomato and, well, there is some stirring in his pants.

He takes a moment to take stock of the situation.

So actually, he is almost as hard as he has ever been. His pants do nothing to conceal it. This was a terrible idea. 

He tilts his head back, intending to hit it against the trunk and hopefully knock some sense into his brain, and ends up staring into the tree’s canopy.

Where he meets a certain pair of beautiful, blue gray eyes.

Steve blinks. The eyes blink back. 

With a jolt, Steve flails into action. First, he yanks the book in to cover the unmistakable bulge in his pants. He then realizes the cover is facing up, showing the Pirate Captain Davis in all his shirtless and tights-clad glory, and attempts to quickly flip it over. The book flies from his hands and tumbles onto the blanket, onto the grass, then out of reach. He quietly yelps and covers himself with his hands. He wants to die. He looks back up.

The Winter Soldier has not moved. He blinks at Steve again. His long hair is falling forward, loose curls framing his bemasked face. Steve is reminded of his previous realization that the Pirate Captain Davis also has long, brown hair. Sophia was just tugging it as the pirate gripped her hips and thrust into her forcefully. Steve also remembers that for Sophia’s kidnapping, the pirate had perched high in the rafters above her then jumped down into her path, overcoming her easily and taking her prisoner. 

The Winter Soldier is still staring down at him intently. Steve is physically incapable of looking away. He is even harder than before, can feel his cock practically throbbing beneath his hands. The Winter Soldier could jump down right now, could just lay Steve out on this blanket in one move, could pull him against his thick, hard body, and Steve wouldn’t be able to move, would be utterly at his mercy, and the man would press down and feel his arousal and Steve would be so mortified—

Steve gazes up at the Winter Soldier and whimpers. His hips thrust up once, twice. He comes with a gasp. He can feel his cocking jerking beneath his hands and presses into it slightly. He whimpers again.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes widen. The mess is already soaking through Steve’s jeans. Sanity finds its way back to him gradually, and then all at once. His flush, impossibly, becomes darker. He is momentarily afraid, and then hopeful, that he might actually catch on fire.

He grabs his book, leaves the blanket, and runs. 

+++

The Soldier watches Steve sprint away with great confusion. This confusion had arrived when he'd first allowed himself to be seen by Steve and had only grown with every moment of their encounter. Today has been a strange day.

This is not the first time he has observed Steve. The Soldier has taken to following the man after each of their missions together. The Winter Soldier, the man who he is supposed to be, had never enjoyed joint missions. Bucky Barnes, the man who he used to be, had enjoyed them greatly. 

The Soldier, the man that he is now, enjoys joint missions specifically with Steve. His mission (aka Operation Wipe Hydra Off the Face of the Planet) had begun as solo until one day, the blonde man from the helicarrier had lumbered onsite and started knocking Hydra agents out with his large metal disc. The Soldier had been annoyed, but had ignored his initial instinct to shoot the man on the spot. He had recently gone to great lengths to save him, after all. Still, the Soldier had not been pleased to have his mission interrupted. 

Except then, Steve had been helpful. The Soldier decided to keep him around long before his Bucky Barnes memories returned to him.

Steve calls his people in to take care of cleanup, a part of every mission that the Soldier prefers to neglect. He also covers the Soldier’s back (the first time the Soldier had shown Steve his back without a thought had been extremely jarring. He had gone on multiple missions without apprising Steve after that. He has since come to terms with the fact that Trusting Steve is one of his defining character traits). This has greatly reduced the number of incidental injuries that he sustains. Unfortunately, he is going to replace the odd bullet wound with a far more annoying and persistent stomach ulcer, because Steve insists upon sacrificing his own body in increasingly ridiculous and unnecessary ways. 

And thus, his need to follow the man and confirm his well-being. This is his other mission.

Normally, it goes like this: the soldier sends a cryptic early-morning text message with the target coordinates, which are often in Jersey (this fits perfectly into his view of the world, though he is not entirely sure why). He then arrives onsite at 0600 and waits for Steve to parse the text message and join him, usually around 0700. The Soldier will then remain in a hidden location and observe him until 0800 to gauge well-being. During this time, Steve generally drinks coffee, eats three bodega egg-cheese-and-sausage-on-a-roll sandwiches, and plays an unknown game on his phone. Sometimes there is a donut. The Soldier likes donut days, thinks Steve should get himself a donut everyday. The Soldier then begins his stealthy attack on the base, taking out as many Hydra operatives as are required for him to reach data stores and remove any identifying data about himself from their records. He then begins his second attack. This involves making a great racket so Steve will get the signal and join him. They fight side by side. They fight well together. Finally, he evades the group of odd humans that follow Steve around and usually make a half-hearted attempt to capture him. Then he heads back to the city, waits for the man to receive medical attention and return outside, then follows him to his apartment or whichever other destination is chosen for the day. He continues to follow Steve to do so until he is convinced that he is safe. If that sometimes takes days, well, he does what he must for a mission.

Today, however, was different almost from the start. Steve arrived at 0705, drank his coffee, and then ate his three rolls. It was not a donut day. He looked at his phone for approximately four minutes and then he placed it down. And pulled out a book. This is where the abnormalities began. The Soldier had not yet observed Steve reading, though he knows via the memories of Bucky Barnes that Steve sometimes used to read when he was small and sick. The Soldier perked up at the prospect of collecting new data for his Steve data archive.

He opened a blank, imaginary file within his mind. Steve: Reading. He sat back with his binoculars and settled in to watch.

For a while, the data was not much different than what he had collected in Steve: Mobile App Games. A mostly passive expression with the occasional slight, satisfied smile and the occasional furrowing of his eyebrows in confusion. Both options were extremely cute. Neither was new. Steve: Reading did contain less scowling and grumbling in frustration.

However, as the clock ticked past 0800, there was a new phenomenon. A slight redness covered his cheeks. Soon, it began to spread, darkening at his cheekbones while slowly covering the rest of his face, eventually moving towards his temples and down his neck.

Interesting.

The Soldier searched his mind for all related material on this face-reddening phenomenon.

The Winter Soldier memories provided some intel. Tactics: Asphyxia: Strangulation. Tactics: Asphyxia: Suffocation. Handler: Alexander Pierce: Anger; Note: Under no circumstances should you speak unless explicitly ordered to do so. Clarification: This includes such questions and phrases as “the man on the bridge. Who was he?” and “I knew him.” Tactics: Seduction. Tactics: Poison.

The Bucky Barnes memories flooded in and took the forefront of the Soldier’s mind with extreme prejudice. Steve: Measles of 1927. Steve: Pneumonia of 1929. Steve: Chilly; Note: Nose will become especially red and it will be cute. Do not point this out. Do ensure that said nose is covered by a scarf. Steve: Scarlet Fever of 1931. Steve: Mortified; Note: Do not invite Reba O'Connell on a double date ever again. Preferably, do not speak to or of her ever again. Steve: Asthma Attack; Note: Provide medical cigarette. 21st-Century Addendum: there is no such thing as a medical cigarette. Steve: Cold; Note: From onset of first sniffle, this cold will likely persist until spring. Provide endless soup and blankets. Steve: Rheumatic Fever of 1934. Steve: Angry; Note: if this was caused by a bully, be prepared to fight. If this was caused by you, also be prepared to fight. Steve: Sunburn. 

The Bucky Barnes memories are not well organized, despite the Soldier’s best efforts, but the intel had seemed good. He continued to watch the redness gradually darken as Steve read on and began to consider the data.

The Soldier first considered the immediately life threatening options, i.e. asphyxiation or poison. Steve was not displaying any of the other visible symptoms associated with these options, and though the redness was bright, it did not seem violent enough to match his past experiences of either phenomena. 

Next, he considered seduction. Or rather, the result of seduction: sexual desire. Honeypot marks often became flushed as a result of his attentions, but generally not to the shade that Steve had displayed. There was also the fact that his Bucky Barnes memories contain the information Steve: Sex: Uninterested; Note: thinks he is above it, do not bring up or he will get a sour expression on his face. That said, it was not an impossibility that Steve was having thoughts of a sexual nature, leading to a flush from desire. Unlikely, but the Soldier took note.

That left the Bucky Barnes contributions to the data pool. It was unlikely that Steve was cold, as the car should have been temperature regulated. In addition, his nose was quite a bit less red than the rest of his face. Mortification was a possibility, though determination of the cause would require further investigation. Likewise, anger. He would have to procure intel on the book’s subject matter in case it was the direct culprit. Sunburn was not a possibility due to location. The great majority of the remaining data points described flushed skin as a result of illness; Steve seems to have spent every winter before 1943 at least slightly pink at all times. These days, the serum should prevent Steve from contracting any of his historically flush-inducing illnesses; however, a danger magnet such as Steve certainly may have contracted some sort of superbug. The Soldier placed illness in the spot of highest likelihood. 

He watched as Steve turned to the next page. The blush increased. Unbidden, the Soldier’s mind returned to the idea that Steve was responding to thoughts of a sexual nature. He reminded himself that this was unlikely, but the idea had hooked itself into his brain and would not let go. Even if this blush was not caused by erotic thoughts, what _would_ a blush of a sexual nature look like on Steve’s skin? What thoughts would even elicit such a reaction?

Since regaining his memories and beginning to discover the man that he is now, the Soldier has become well acquainted with his own sexual desire. His mind has taken advantage of having full autonomy over his body and made up for decades of brain-washing and repression by rejoicing in its ability to become turned on at the drop of a hat. He likes to indulge these urges and has been doing so by determining the exact sequence of touches that result in the most satisfying orgasm. He does this systematically and has collected such data as Masturbation: Edging; Note: positive outcome but requires too much patience. Masturbation: Fleshlight; Note: do not be fooled by the disturbing name, a worthy purchase.

He knows many people find satisfaction in fantasy, but as of yet, has conducted his own explorations exclusively using sensation. He does not neglect sexual fantasies intentionally, he simply has not found any that increase his enjoyment. His Bucky Barnes memories do contain a great many sexual encounters, both with women and with men, and he has tried looking through them for Masturbation: Fantasizing. The memories feel smug, joyful, and rather sweet. They elicit a fondness in the Soldier for his past self, but they do not elicit arousal. 

His Winter Soldier memories also contain a great many sexual encounters, all as a result of Tactics: Seduction. These he does not class under Encounters: Sexual, but under Abuse: Enter With Caution. Most of the Winter Soldier’s memories live in this category. He subclasses them for organizational and healing purposes but feels no need to dwell. 

All that said, as he watched Steve read and blush for unidentified and likely illness related reasons, he found himself unable to keep from dwelling on the slight possibility that Steve was blushing because of impure thoughts. And suddenly, he found himself extremely aroused. 

That was new. 

On one hand, it would be an interesting addition to his masturbation experimentation. On the other far more important hand, he was becoming preoccupied with Steve’s arousal at a time when the man was likely sick and there was a nearby Hydra base in need of destroying. He filed the occurrence under Steve: Requires Further Examination; Note: monitor for potential illness and upon clean bill of health, consider reopening Masturbation: Fantasizing.

He took one last look at Steve, deemed him healthy enough to be left unattended, adjusted himself within his tac pants, and made his way to the base. 

Hydra has ramped up their defensive efforts at all bases near New York City. It would be prudent for the Soldier to extend his elimination efforts West, but he cannot be sure that Steve would be willing to go on the road, an outcome that he is not willing to risk. Besides, there are many Hydra bases within a couple states of New York, and post-SHIELD Hydra simply does not have the resources to defend all of them successfully against the Soldier. 

And so, as usual, this mission went smoothly. 

Aware of Steve Roger’s possible ailment, the Soldier neutralized almost all operatives solo. He then summoned his partner by leaving three guards unconscious at the entrance. As Steve crashed in, the Soldier opened the door to a room containing the four remaining conscious operatives (already screened and deemed mostly harmless). When Steve stepped up to fight them, the Soldier hung back and took the opportunity to observe the man at close range. 

His reactions seemed normal and the flush was gone from his face. He does not generally flush from exertion, the Soldier has found. After close scrutiny, the Soldier could only conclude that he had no further data to add to Steve: Requires Further Examination. He would have to leave it open. As Steve fought the last operative, the Soldier performed one last scan of his body. His eyes rested on his ass. It was exceptionally round, flexing and clenching as he fought. The Soldier recalled his sexual desire blush hypothesis and subsequent arousal. That arousal, which had long since left, returned at full force. 

Just then, the last operative fell to the ground with a thud. The Soldier could not look away from the ass. Steve turned to face him, and the Solder knew it was past time to get out, but it had been so long since they had been that close and he could do nothing but hungrily take it in. 

Then, Steve’s face began to color again. The Soldier watched it spread and re-opened Steve: Requires Further Examination. Had he miscalculated? Could even that short fight have been enough to exacerbate the illness? 

Steve then let out a slight exhalation of air, and the Soldier’s instincts kicked in. He filed the gasp away and would continue to observe, but it was time to go. He pulled himself up and into the venting system and disappeared. 

+++

Given the many discoveries of the morning (see: new entries in Steve and in Masturbation), the Soldier had not been sure what to expect from the rest of the day. He should have anticipated that it would only get more strange. 

After leaving the base, the Soldier took a winding path to his bike’s hiding spot, changed into civilian clothing, and began the trip back to the city. It was a nice, crisp day, and he enjoyed the ride. Once back, he took a detour to buy curry from a nearby food truck and then went to his co-opted lookout apartment across from Stark Tower. He’d found the apartment listing on StreetEasy, had known no one in their right mind would rent that unit for that asking price, and had taken it upon himself to give it some use once in a while. 

Today, Steve was taking a while to exit the tower. The Soldier was no stranger to long stakeouts, could sit still for lengths of time that would probably seem inhuman to most, but today he was… distracted. 

The thing is, Steve: Body: Ass refused to be filed away. The Soldier does have an apartment of his own, and has long since created the entry Masturbation: Location: Bedroom; Note: on bed, lights dimmed, preferably with a lit Eucalyptus mint candle. 

Today, though, his body had other ideas. He was sitting at the window of the abandoned apartment unit, gaze locked onto the Stark Tower entrance, and he was completely hard. 

He adjusted himself within his jeans. Squeezed his cock firmly through the denim in an attempt to cool it down, but only succeeded in making it worse. 

Masturbation: Location: Anywhere But Apartment had already been deemed a failure. He sometimes can get turned on from just a stiff breeze, but actually doing something about it in, say, a public restroom? Turns out his brain would much rather play all possible threats on a loop and make masturbating an act in frustration. Which was perfectly fine; only his apartment has his masturbation devices and lubrication, anyways. 

But today, his body insisted that he give Masturbation: Location: Lookout Apartment an honest try. And well, post-brainwashing, the Soldier has been in the business of self-indulgence. 

So without removing his gaze from the Stark Tower entrance for even a moment, he unzipped his jeans, shoved them and his briefs down slightly, and pulled himself free. The relief was instantaneous. He drew his hand up and down his cock once and shuddered in his seat. 

Apparently his mind had deemed today the day of trying new things, and pulled Masturbation: Fantasizing right to the forefront. He tried to push it back, tried to remind himself that Steve had really been quite flushed and that it could be a serious ailment, but oh god, _oh god_ , that ass. He would like to… he would like to… 

Hmm. Masturbation: Fantasizing might require some work. He stroked himself absentmindedly and thought about it. What _would_ he like to do to Steve’s ass? He searched his blank mind for material. All data he had ever collected on Sexual Activities: Anal suddenly flooded his mind. The ones from his Bucky Barnes memories, anything he had ever taken in from various media sources, they scrolled through his mind and suddenly _every ass_ was _Steve’s ass_ and Masturbation: Fantasizing was full speed ahead. He stroked himself with fervor, pulled his hand off only to spit on it liberally, far past caring about being too desperate. When he returned his hand to his cock, saliva mixed with the pre-come dripping from his slit and his hips began pushing up to meet each glide of his slick hand.

Oh god, it would be so warm and tight, tighter than the fleshlight. And unless Steve was hiding a lot in the past, he is probably a virgin, and _fuck._ The Soldier grabbed the windowsill in front of him with his left hand, gripped it hard as he leant forward and really began to thrust into his fist. He imagined he was bending over Steve, pushing into his tight asshole slowly, all the way to the hilt, before pulling back and _shoving_ back in, then fucking him so hard, so good. His eyes clenched and his mouth opened in a gasp as his come hit the wall in front of him. With his eyes shut, he could imagine that he was covering Steve’s ass with his come and whimpered as his hips jerked into his fist one more time. 

Breathing hard, he collapsed back into his chair, eyes back on the tower entrance. Did a quick scan of the sidewalks to make sure he hadn’t missed Steve’s exit. When he didn’t see him, he glanced at his spent cock, then the come-covered wall, and began to laugh quietly. He took a deep breath, felt the pleasant buzz still covering his overheated skin, and laughed some more. He tucked himself back into his pants, zipped himself up, and stretched his arms over his head, a wide, happy grin on his face.

He had the passing thought that he should feel ashamed about his fantasy, but he couldn’t muster up the energy. Despite the rudimentary setup, Masturbation: Highlights: Top 5 had just gained a new entry. He had some data re-organizing to do. 

+++

Once he came down from his endorphin high and watched as Steve finally exited the tower, the Soldier felt a sudden ache of awareness about how far apart they still were. He didn’t go as far as to feel bad about his fantasies, because he deserved to have good thoughts in his brain, he _did_ , but he still did lose some of the closeness that he had felt.

Steve was on the move, so he’d shaken off the melancholy, pulled a beanie on, wrapped a large scarf over the bottom half of his face, and hurried downstairs.

He was led to Central Park. The Soldier generally observes Steve at a distance, but today, watching him surreptitiously from a bench over a hundred feet away had felt too far to bear. So in the interest of self-indulgence and also of gaining intel for Steve: Possible Superbug, he had carefully picked his way to the tree the man had settled next to. As soon as he was engrossed in his book, the Soldier swiftly jumped up, hoisted himself onto a low branch, and then climbed to a fully concealed perch higher up. It took a matter of moments, and a careful scan showed that no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

And then the Soldier looked down. And there he was.

The Soldier smiled and felt his entire body settle. 

On the walk to the park, Steve had not displayed any unusual face redness. Now that he had returned to reading, the Soldier could see color at the tips of his ears and at the back of his neck. He knew that if he could see Steve’s face, it would be flushed and pink. Judging from the darker pink hue at his ears, his face would already be nearing redness. He otherwise looked well. 

The Soldier considered this new data. His Bucky Barnes memories had left him paranoid about the prospect of Steve being sick, but he couldn’t ignore that two instances of redness had occurred during Steve: Reading. Perhaps he should revisit Steve: Angry and Steve: Mortified. Could he be reading a book containing bigoted content? All existing Steve data suggests that would cause anger, but also that he would have thrown it into the trash by now. 

Bucky was just beginning to reconsider all of the options that he had previously discounted when he noticed that Steve was beginning to tilt his head back. His mind began to race. He should pull back, hide amongst the shadows. Something stopped him. He didn’t move.

Steve looked up. They made eye contact. 

The next sequence of events happened so quickly that if not for his perfect memory, the Soldier would have second guessed his recollection. As it was, all he could do as he watched the events unfold was focus on remaining on his perch. One moment, time was moving in slow motion as he made the decision to _let Steve catch him._ Practically the next, he was watching that glorious ass sprint into the distance.

And yet, those brief moments in between have made all the difference. Those few moments will probably define the rest of his sorry existence.

Because Steve had been reading a book called _The Pirate's Prisoner_. Steve had made eye contact with the Soldier and had blushed so beautifully, a blush that was almost certainly from arousal. Steve had just _come in his pants_ while _gazing directly into the Soldier’s eyes._

This means not only that the existing Steve: Sex: Uninterested is outdated (he feels fiercely possessive about this fact that is _his_ , and not from the past), but also that there is a chance that Steve is sexually attracted to _him._ The Soldier needs to gather much, much more intel. 

For today, the Soldier is going to go home to his apartment in Brooklyn, he is going to confirm that Steve made it home safely by hacking into the camera feed at the bank across from his apartment building, and then he is going to add some more data to Masturbation: Fantasizing. 

Once both the ass and the man disappear from his view, the Soldier swings to the ground and lands softly on the blanket that Steve left behind. He folds it carefully, drapes it over his arm, and whistles as he walks in the direction of the train. 

+++

By the time Steve stops sprinting, he has already left the park and is only one block from the F train. He pulls off his jacket, ties it around his waist to hide the wet spot on his jeans, and enters the station. At least he can now pretend the redness in his face is from the exertion and not from— from— 

He can’t even think it. He’s depraved. Before today, he had thought about sex only long enough to quickly deal with his annoyingly frequent erections, and now here he is spontaneously orgasming. In Central Park _._ In _front of the Winter Soldier._ Is he a pervert? Is he sick?

If he thinks too long about the Winter Soldier right now, he is possibly going to drop dead on this train. He is going to keel over right here, just collapse onto the piss and beer covered subway floor. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with the sheer mortification that will now define him for as long as he lives. It might actually be an improvement. 

Oh, god. Oh, _god._ The entire saga plays on repeat in his head. He gets to the park and reads his book. He realizes he is hard. He is mortified. He sees the Winter Soldier. He fails to hide his arousal. He thinks about the Winter Soldier pinning him down, having his way with him, keeping him prisoner, and then he _comes in his fucking pants._ The mess is still there. He can feel his cock sticking to his underwear. 

He wants to _die._

He is getting hard. Oh, god. He _is_ a pervert. He is not right in the head. He is standing on the F train, already hiding that his jeans are damp from the come soaking his underwear, and he is _still getting hard._ He looks around frantically. He could probably pry the subway doors open and fling himself out of the moving car without hurting anyone else, right? It wouldn’t scar the civilians too badly? 

He wants to cry from the shame. Unbidden, his mind conjures an image of the Winter Soldier comforting him, holding him against his chest. He becomes harder. He is going to scream.

 _Oh god_. Okay. Okay. 

Steve takes a deep breath. Everything is still awful, but he attempts to put things in perspective. Arguably, he has faced worse things in his life. He has managed to make it out of all of them alive. Probably, even though he does not see how, he will also make it out of this alive. He takes another deep breath. Repeats these words as affirmations. 

Somehow, he makes it to his stop in Brooklyn and then to his apartment. His cock has mostly settled. His mortification has not. He shuts his door behind himself and immediately heads to the bathroom to clean up. He tosses the book, which he has carried this whole way without even realizing it, onto the couch on his way.

It’s not until he is standing in the shower, the spray washing away the evidence of his sins, that he thinks to wonder why the Winter Soldier had been watching him in the first place.

+++

The Soldier holds three separate versions of Steve in his head. Bucky Barnes’s Steve has the most memories, but he is also the most distant. The Soldier appreciates the breadth of Steve intel from this source, but it is difficult not to feel jealous of his past self. Of the man that he once was but never again will be, the man who could say _Steve_ , or _Stevie_ , or _Punk_ and have it be something special. Who could say “til the end of the line” and have that sentiment returned. He tries not to dwell on his pasts, but it is these facts that are sometimes the hardest to bear. 

The Winter Soldier, on the other hand, knew Steve only as his target. Target Steve had been short lived. Even before he had regained his memories, before he had researched Steve and found him in images alongside a man that wore his face, the Soldier had not been able to view the Man on the Bridge as a target. From the first time he had looked into Steve Roger’s eyes, seen a face that made him want to _protect_ , he had begun to wake up. 

It had been gradual, at first. Strange images in his head. An unwelcome urge to trust the blonde mean. Slowly, Steve’s existence had worn away at the cages locking Bucky Barnes within the Winter Soldier’s mind. One confusing snapshot at a time.

Until the helicarrier, and Steve, _Steve,_ falling, falling, and Bucky Barnes’s primal scream had pierced through the Winter Soldier’s consciousness, had shattered the programming, and the Soldier had emerged. Had jumped after the man. Had dragged him to shore. 

Since then, the Soldier has been trying to relearn Steve for himself. 

Finally, he has something of Steve that is his. He is lying in his Brooklyn apartment, his bedroom lights dimmed and a candle flickering on the dresser. There is come splattered across his chest; the proof of his impure thoughts about Steve laid bare. He smiles, basking in the glow. His fantasies, his knowledge that Steve gets turned on by pulp romance books, that he comes so prettily, those are all _his._ Bucky Barnes, the man that he used to be, had loved Steve with all his heart, would have died for the man, _did_ die for the man, but he did not have this part of Steve. 

He had been too close to see, too distracted by trying to make sure Steve made it through another winter, too wary of Steve’s prickliness. He had been what Steve had needed at the time, but still, he had been blind. He had missed how utterly fucking gorgeous Steve is. And maybe that had been better for them both, because the Steve of Bucky Barnes’s memories had been happy ignoring his sexuality. But this Steve ( _his_ Steve, not Bucky’s Steve, not the Winter Soldier’s Steve) gets turned on from reading his raunchy little novel, is clearly just as much of a hair trigger as the Soldier, and blushes so beautifully.

Steve: Blushing: Arousal; Note: shy and should be protected in this vulnerable state; Further Considerations: when fucked, will the blush increase or decrease?; Research Required: (long term project) determine and list all blush triggers. 

The Soldier will hoard his fantasies and not only know that they are his, but also that they are _only_ his. That only he, the man that he is today, finally gets it. Finally sees Steve and wants to inhabit every, _every,_ single part of him, including this part. Especially this part. 

+++

As Steve showers, his mind races. His mortification has taken second place to this mystery. Is the Winter Soldier stalking him? What else would explain why he was in the tree directly above Steve’s head, watching him?

Why does the possibility fill Steve with excitement?

Today has been taxing in a way that is unfamiliar and overwhelming. The short fight hadn’t been nearly enough activity to wear off the pre-fight adrenaline, plus the unfamiliar barrage of sexually charged adrenaline he has faced, and then his extreme shame swinging wildly to this new confusion. His skin is buzzing with it all. It needs an outlet. 

A voice whispers that an orgasm might be a nice release, but he’s barely washed off the traces of the last one. That would be so depraved, he couldn’t.

Could he? 

He shakes his head and scrubs hard at his skin. He couldn’t. 

After rinsing off and drying, Steve goes to eat. Everything else might be a confusing mess right now, but at least his hunger is constant and dependable. He makes himself a vegetable stir fry with a large quantity of rice and eats it quickly. His apartment is oppressive in it’s silence. There is nothing to distract his mind. He wants to tell Sam or Nat about everything that has happened today, but there are too many parts that he cannot disclose. 

He wants to talk to the Winter Soldier. 

He thought he had wanted it desperately before. He had wanted to confirm that the man is okay and thank him for saving his life, he wanted to see the face that matches those haunting eyes. But now? Now that the Winter Soldier is apparently following him outside of their missions? Now that he’s realized that he’s—that he’s _attracted_ to the man?

Now, he needs it, to just see him even. He feels the absence of it so deeply that he’s frantic with it. But he has no way to get in contact with the man, no way to know him outside of their fights. If the Winter Soldier is apparently stalking him, why won’t he stick around to say even two words to Steve when they fight together? Why did he even want Steve to fight with him in the first place? Why Steve?

Steve has wondered these things before, of course, but never as desperately as he is now. Now that he knows that the strong pull that he feels might be returned. 

As generally bewildered as Steve is about everything about this day, he is still a tactician. What he needs here is a plan. 

He doesn’t know when the Winter Soldier will contact him next, but there often is a week or more between their missions, and Steve is not willing to wait that long. However, if the Winter Soldier following him was not a fluke, then he must be closer than Steve realizes. There has to be a way to draw him out. 

He refuses to consider the possibility that being caught may have scared the Winter Soldier away for good. He doesn’t think he could have glimpsed the man if he hadn’t wanted to be seen. He must have decided to expose himself for some reason. He must want to make contact, at least on some level.

How far does his surveillance go? Could he be watching Steve in his apartment? A flash of excitement runs through him at that thought, but he doesn’t actually think the Winter Soldier would go that far. He’s not sure why, but he knows it like he knows that the Winter Soldier means him no harm. He’s had infinite opportunities if he wanted to hurt Steve. 

But the outside of his apartment is another story. He must have a way of knowing when Steve leaves the building. Assuming that he does follow Steve regularly, and that’s all that Steve has to go on, so that’s the assumption he’s making. Steve should be able to use the entrance to his building to communicate a message somehow, then. 

Absurdly, the first thing that pops into his head is a giant sign that says “Do you like me?” with a “yes” and “no” checkbox. He saw a joke like that once. It seems fitting.

Which is another thing to think about, his crush. He’s not an idiot, he knows that not everyone is heterosexual. He’d known it in the past, and he really knows it now, after Nat’s lecture to him on the topic. He had never considered that he might be anything other than straight, but he’s not bothered to be attracted to a man. He’s relieved to feel such attraction at all, hadn’t thought he’d ever understand what it could be like. The fact that the Winter Soldier is the object of his affections probably should be a bit more troubling, but he can’t say that he minds.

What he does mind is that the idea of the Winter Soldier stalking and kidnapping him makes him immediately hard. That is definitely not normal. Just brushing past the thought has his cock filling. He trusts the Winter Soldier implicitly, but the man still _looks_ dangerous, and that’s turning him on like nothing else in his life ever has. He’s always been so _bored_ at the thought of sex, imagining something of a chore. Apparently he hasn’t been very creative, because all it took was one sex scene with a pirate, one profound gaze into the Winter Soldier’s eyes, and suddenly Steve is a complete floozy. 

His strategic planning has gotten derailed. He cannot stop thinking about that intense gaze. Steve leans back in his chair and strokes himself through his pants. God, he actually came in his pants right in front of the Winter Soldier today. What if the man had jumped down right then? It would have been so embarrassing. He would have known how depraved Steve is. What if he kidnapped him for that very reason. To use him. Steve goes to pull himself out of his pants, but stops at the last second. He’s wearing sweatpants, soft against his skin. He wants to leave them on. Is this a fetish? It’s probably weird.

He decides not to examine the urge too strongly, desperate as he’s already gotten, just shoves his hand into his pants and strokes himself. It’s still not what he wants, and he really doesn’t let himself think about what he’s doing as he heads to his bedroom. He feels hot all over. Imagines the Winter Soldier forcing him to the room, metal hand gripping his hair and pulling him down the hall. He’d toss him onto the bed, and Steve mirrors that, lying down and rutting his throbbing cock against the mattress. He doesn’t know why this is what he wants, but it had felt so dirty and shameful and _good_ in the park, to come without even touching himself directly. He pictures the Winter Soldier mounting him, shoving his face down into the bed and moans out loud as he thrusts his hips down harder. 

Steve knows what men do together. He imagines his kidnapper would want that of him. Would he like that? To be taken in that way? His moans have gotten loud enough that he’s embarrassed, even alone in his apartment. He’s never felt like this before. He holds one hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds, then pictures it being the Winter Soldier’s hand, held firmly over his mouth. 

Fuck, it’s not enough. He pulls a pillow from the head of the bed and shoves it under his hips. He’s so hard that it’s obscene. He’s leaking, his pants already wet where he is rubbing against them. He’s so desperate that the Winter Soldier would be shocked and would taunt him, tell him he shouldn’t be liking it so much. He wonders again if he would like being taken in his… his _hole_. He can’t imagine it, so he moves one of his hands behind himself and rubs the spot through his pants. The fabric drags over his rim and he whimpers into his hand. Just that touch sent sparks shooting up his spine; how would it feel to be fingered there? To be fucked? 

With one last, drawn out moan, Steve clenches his eyes and grinds down hard against the pillow. Come soaks his pants as he shudders through his orgasm. 

Once the aftershocks have stopped, he rolls to the side and catches his breath. His come is cooling against his skin, and he once again pictures the Winter Soldier shaming him for it. He’s still hard and could go again, but he feels wrung out. His fantasy shifts to the Winter Soldier holding him close and that is almost more embarrassing, but he’s too tired to care. It’s been a long day. He takes the pillow, which is damp and gross but also feels special somehow, and holds it close. He falls asleep right away.

+++

After basking in his afterglow for a sufficient amount of time, the Soldier begins planning the best way to proceed with Steve. He is not one for inaction, and now that he has found a concrete way to anchor his Steve into his mind, he is no longer satisfied watching from the sidelines. Before, he would have felt like he was borrowing Bucky Barnes’s Steve. He would have felt like an imposter. Now he has a Steve of his own and he is not going to leave his Steve without him. It would be easy to think of himself as not enough, but he has to draw the line somewhere. He knows Steve, and he knows Steve would want to know that he is alive, and when it comes down to it, that’s all that matters. 

For that same reason, it is time to reclaim Bucky Barnes’s name. Before now, going by the name Bucky would have felt like masquerading as his former self. But Steve needs Bucky, and nothing matters more than that. He may not be the Bucky Barnes of his memories, but his Steve is clearly not the Steve of those memories either. He is ready for the name.

The question of how to approach Steve is another matter entirely. For one, now that Steve knows the Soldier—Bucky—has been creepily tailing him, he is probably freaked out. He knows Steve will forgive him once he explains. He does not like relying on it, but he has spent an extensive amount of time analyzing the Steve of his memories and the Steve of today, and the data doesn’t lie. Bucky will be ripping his heart out and presenting it to Steve, pulsing and bleeding, but Steve will handle it with more care than Bucky ever could. 

As ready as he is to become Bucky Barnes, he will approach Steve as the Soldier. The armor will give him comfort and reduce the chances of giving Steve a heart attack. Bucky may be comfortable thinking of himself and Steve as their modern selves, but Steve: Bum Heart; Note: do not startle. is still filed in a place of prominence.

Bucky should continue planning for what may be his most important mission yet, but his entire body is already alight with adrenaline. He knew this day would come, but he did not wake up this morning knowing it would be today. Steve: Requires Further Examination has somehow opened a folder he did not think would receive intel for quite a while. Steve: The Great Reveal. (He had been exploring modern cinema and feeling dramatic at the time of its creation.)

So yes, Bucky should sit here and plan more thoroughly, should list the pros and cons for a wide variety of various reveal strategies, but the thing is, he’s way too fucking excited. He has waited so patiently, has kept his distance as he has navigated all the landmines in his own mind and has sorted through his treacherous memories.

Now, it is time to act.

His entire body feels it, vibrates with the knowledge. He feels down to his very soul that it is finally time for him to meet Steve again, and for good. So with a deep breath and a squaring of his shoulders, Bucky says fuck it, grabs a scarf, wraps it around his face, and heads to Steve’s apartment. 

+++

Since waking up in the future, Steve has had difficulty sleeping. It’s a result of many compounded factors: being alone in his apartment, being on a mattress softer than he ever had imagined existing, his eidetic and very fresh memories of war. 

But today, Steve naps like a baby. Sprawled out sideways on his bed, clutching his defiled pillow, still wearing messy pants, Steve sleeps soundly for hours. He dreams in hazy images, just impressions of memories. The Winter Soldier staring down at him from the tree becomes the Winter Soldier staring down at him on the helicarrier wearing Bucky’s eyes becomes Bucky waking him up one chilly winter morning with soup.

Until the incessant thudding of his door knocker.

Steve wakes with a start. His eyes are both crusty and slightly wet with unshed tears. He rubs at them, disoriented by the darkness shrouding his room. He grimaces when he feels his dick, half hard upon waking and sticking to the inside of his sweats. He feels disgusting. 

The knocking continues. 

Cautiously, Steve heads towards the entrance to his apartment. He eyes the shield leaning against the wall next to his door and then peers through the peephole. He doesn’t often get unannounced callers.

It’s the Winter Soldier. Steve’s eyes widen in shock.

The man is wearing civilian clothing, but it’s fully black and looks durable. He has a thick black scarf wrapped around the bottom of his face and a black beanie covering his thick, brown hair. It is undeniably the Winter Soldier knocking on his door.

Steve looks down at himself, at the stain on his pants and his crumpled shirt. _Fuck._ He probably shouldn’t keep the Winter Soldier waiting, but— 

“One second!” he calls out, voice panicked. He sprints back to his room and starts simultaneously tearing through his closet and ripping his clothing off. He’s hopping on one leg, rifling through his hangers, when he accidentally bangs his knee against his drawer and curses loudly. His lamp tips off the drawer and crashes on the floor. 

Suddenly, there is a huge bang at his door and the thud of boots running down his hallway.

The Winter Soldier skids into the room to find Steve clutching his knee and cursing, sweatpants around his ankles and no underwear for modesty, a pile of clothing and a broken lamp scattered at his feet. He stops, jaw dropped, when he sees the carnage. His scarf has become unraveled during the frantic rush. 

Steve looks up. Meets blue gray eyes and an uncovered face. His eyes bug out and he stops hopping.

_“Bucky?”_

Bucky’s hand flies up to his face, confirming that his scarf is gone. He panics for a moment, then takes a small fortifying breath and rubs at the back of his neck. He gives Steve a small smile.

“Hey, Steve.”

That’s Bucky’s voice. Mind still blank from shock, his body responds to the sound on autopilot. He stands and attempts to take a big step towards Bucky. His feet catch in his sweats. He flies forward. 

Bucky rushes towards Steve and catches him by the shoulders before he can hit the floor. He hoists Steve to his feet then runs his hands along Steve’s body, checking for injury. This is the first time he’s touched Steve in decades. He crouches down and kneels before him, inspecting his entire body. His face is very close to Steve’s soft dick. He looks up at Steve lovingly. He could probably cry. Instead, he gives Steve a sly smile.

“I’m getting pretty well acquainted with this little guy, huh doll?” Steve’s face remains shock personified, but his cheeks still begin to color. It’s fucking cute. Steve: Blushing; Additional Note: irresistible. Before he can second guess himself too much, he leans forward and kisses Steve’s cock gently. It smells strongly of come and jumps at the light touch. He adores it. Bucky pulls Steve’s sweatpants up to his hips with reverence. He kisses the pale skin above Steve’s waistband. Steve gasps quietly, drops to his knees with a thud, and now there is less than a foot of space between them. Bucky reaches his hand up and pushes some sweaty strands of hair from Steve’s beautiful face. Then he doesn’t want to let go, so he keeps his hand cupped at the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve’s eyes are searching Bucky’s face wildly. “Bucky?” His voice cracks halfway through. He tries to clear his throat, but only a sob escapes. Tears build in his eyes and soon a stream of them is running down his cheeks. “Bucky?” His voice breaks again, but this time he is able to continue. “How?” 

Bucky strokes the back of Steve’s neck. “It’s me, sweetheart.” The pet name comes naturally and is now another thing for _his_ Steve. His sweet, sweet Steve. This wasn’t exactly how he had planned on this reunion going, but now that they’re here, he is filled to the brim and overflowing with affection.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut against the tears, then wipes at them with his hand. “Am I dreaming?” 

Bucky’s smile widens at that. He moves his hand forward to wipe some of Steve’s tears away himself. “Doll, I sure hope you have nicer dreams than just seeing this old mug.” 

Steve searches Bucky’s face one last time, then tips forward and wraps his arms around him, pushing his wet face against Bucky’s shoulder. “Bucky, I don’t understand.” 

Bucky grips the back of Steve’s head with his right hand, then flexes the metal one a couple times before mustering up the courage to place it on Steve’s back. He rubs it slowly. Steve melts against him. “Bucky,” he murmurs again. 

Bucky kisses the top of Steve’s head. “I’m here, sweetheart.”

+++

Steve clings to Bucky and cries for a while longer, but eventually he remembers that he should probably be suspicious of the situation and half-heartedly asks more pointed questions. Bucky, who could have killed Steve a hundred times over since arriving, is exasperated by Steve’s complete disregard for personal safety. At least he can take over now that he’s back.

They relocate to the living room couch. Steve still grips Bucky desperately, clinging to his shirt and leaning against his side. Bucky has explained enough to satisfy Steve for now, and they’ve come out mostly unscathed from another round of sobbing after Steve actually considered what it means for Bucky to be the Winter Soldier. Considered what he has gone through, what horrific images sit crystal clear in his eidetic mind. They held each other through it, and Bucky attempted to assure Steve that he has found a manageable way to structure and process the memories, that he is working through it. 

They are quiet now. Bucky rubs Steve’s back gently, his chin propped on Steve’s head. He catches a glimpse of _The Pirate's Prisoner,_ still lying on the far side of the couch where Steve tossed it earlier that day, and grins. 

“So Stevie, been reading anything good lately?” 

Steve turns and follows Bucky’s gaze, realizes what he means, and presses his face back against Bucky’s shoulder. “Bucky,” he whines, the y drawn out.

“What? I’m just wondering what book you’re reading, since you seemed to _enjoy_ it so much earlier.” 

Steve feels his face heat up and burrows further against Bucky. He knows exactly what Bucky is asking. “Wasn’t just the book,” he mumbles incoherently. 

Bucky gently pushes him away and uses his metal hand to lift Steve’s chin. “Hmm?” Seeing the cold appendage against Steve’s soft skin sends a pulse of regret through him, but he pushes through it. Steve notices his discomfort and reaches up to cover the metal hand with his own, holding it carefully. He strokes it with his thumb.

Then he remembers the topic at hand and bites his lip, trying to look away from Bucky, but the metal hand holds him in place. “Wasn’t just the book,” he repeats. His face reddens and Bucky is really gonna have a problem if he has to deal with feeling this much adoration every time Steve gets flushed. “It was—” Steve swallows. “It was _you,_ Buck. You and… and him? I guess.” He sounds uncertain and tries to look away again.

Bucky doesn’t let him. “Hey, it’s okay, I get my wires a bit crossed about it too. But I am him. Probably more him than your Bucky.” He tries not to sound bitter.

Steve tugs the metal hand, which he still holds, up to his lips. He presses a kiss to each finger. “ _You’re_ my Bucky, all of you,” he says fiercely. Then becomes more timid and looks down at their joined hands. Bucky lets him. “I just meant… I wasn’t just turned on by the book. I mean it started it, but I kept picturing you, the… the _dangerous_ you, and how you could just _overpower_ me.” He’s blushing full out now, but soldiers on. “You know how I was about sex, before. I didn’t care to even think about it, really, and even if I had thought of all this stuff, I had too much to prove, I think. I’ve loved you for my entire life, Buck. But,” he peers up at Bucky through his eyelashes. “But it’s you, _this_ you, that I want so badly.”

A surge of fierce pride runs through Bucky’s body. He knows how he feels, how there’s this important distinction about this Steve, _his_ Steve, in his head. But to hear the same from Steve is more than he knew to hope for. “Oh, Steve.” He presses a soft kiss against Steve’s mouth, and it feels perfectly natural. 

Steve smiles and snuggles even more tightly into Bucky’s hold. He gathers a bit more courage. “In the book, the main character gets, um, kidnapped by the pirate.” He looks back up at Bucky, then looks down again, feeling unbearably shy. He begins to play with the fingers on Bucky’s metal hand. “Before you came, I was, uh, thinking about that.” His blush has returned. Bucky will never get enough of it. 

“You were thinking about getting kidnapped, sweetheart?” Steve shrugs, still shy. Bucky moves his lips closer to Steve’s ear. “You were thinking about _me_ kidnapping you?” 

“Is that… okay?” 

“Steve, doll, that is more than okay. I want to _wreck_ you. Seeing you today, it almost killed me. You’re gorgeous.”

Steve lets out a strangled noise. “God, Bucky, I swear I’ve never even considered these things before. Then today, I saw you after that fight, and I’d just been reading about that pirate, and thought about everything you could probably do to me, and—” he cuts off with a moan as Bucky takes hold of him through his sweatpants. 

“Pirate? Should I be jealous?” He strokes Steve through the fabric and it drags against his cock, bordering on harsh. He nips hard at the skin below Steve’s ear. Steve moans out his dissent.

“No, Buck, no one else, only you,” he continues to babble as Bucky moves his hand up and down and presses kisses against his neck. 

Bucky pulls Steve into his lap. “Why do your pants already have this stain, hm?” Bucky exhales sharply as Steve’s ass settles over his dick. He readjusts, pulls himself from his pants, and begins stroking himself. Goes back to rubbing Steve through the cloth with his other hand. “Were you thinking about me having my way with you? Taking you apart?” Steve whimpers and nods. Feels how his cock is sticky with pre-come and also with the dried come he’s been sitting in for hours. It’s disgusting and the shame makes him harder. “Oh baby, and you came in your pants _again_?”

Steve is incoherent now. He’s turned on and embarrassed and his whole body is alight with it. He’s never felt this good before and it’s overwhelming.

Bucky takes the hand he was using on himself and thrusts it in front of Steve’s face. “Lick this for me, doll. Get it all messy like you keep making your pants.” He pushes two fingers into Steve’s mouth and Steve lathers them with his tongue. He continues with the rest of his fingers, and then his palm. Bucky brings his hand down to fist his cock again and hisses at the slick slide. Steve hears it, can feel Bucky getting himself off behind him, and he tries to grind his ass back towards it. Doesn’t even know what he wants, just wants _more_. 

Bucky is breathing heavily near Steve’s ear now. “You gonna come in your pants for me again, sweetheart?” Steve is gripping Bucky’s thighs and grinding up hard against Bucky’s hand. “So desperate that you can’t even wait to do this properly?” 

Bucky takes his hand off himself long enough to reach around Steve and pinch one of his nipples. Steve keens and comes, shuddering against Bucky. He moans Bucky’s name and grips painfully at his thighs as he coats the inside of his pants for the third time that day. It’s so indecent that he almost feels proud to have done it for Bucky. 

Bucky brings his hand back down to stroke himself firmly, all of his focus now going towards getting himself off. Steve feels clumsy and spent, but is desperate to see. He gets himself turned around and straddling Bucky’s lap facing him. 

Bucky catches sight of the wet spot on Steve’s pants and his rucked up shirt and the red marks on his neck. “Oh _god,_ Stevie.” A wave of possession washes through him and then he comes as well, onto Steve’s shirt.

Steve watches hungrily. Curious, he drags a finger through the mess and gives it a small lick. Then he sucks the whole finger into his mouth. Bucky makes a strangled noise. “You’re incredible.” Steve smiles and moves both legs to one side of Bucky’s lap, curling up against him. He grips Bucky’s shirt as Bucky wraps his arms around him and pulls him in tight. 

“I’m filthy,” Steve says happily. 

Bucky noses at his hair and chuckles. “You sure are, doll.” 

Steve sighs happily. “I didn’t know I could feel like this. With sex, or just being this happy at all. I’m so _happy,_ Buck.”

Bucky kisses Steve’s forehead. “I love you, you dope.” He will be working hard to collect the data necessary for making Steve feel even better. Wants to surprise him in this way again and again.

Steve hums in agreement and burrows further into Bucky’s hold. “Love you, Bucky. You’re way better than the pirate,” he slurs. He feels like he’s dreaming, but he doesn’t think a dream would feature come sticky and drying in his pants. He tries to say something about a shower even as his eyes are fluttering shut. “Bucky,” he mumbles one last time. He doesn’t know how he could be so sleepy after his nap earlier, but he’s almost out already.

Bucky watches him nod off and smiles, stroking his hand through Steve’s hair. He looks over at the book next to them and is intensely grateful for the ridiculous pirate with his shining pecs and large sword. He has a lot of memories to process now, perhaps his most cherished ones so far. He starts the filing with Steve: Sexual Fantasies: Kidnapping. They’ll definitely be revisiting that one.

**Author's Note:**

> There will most definitely be a sequel where the kidnapping fantasy happens btw.


End file.
